Life Is What We Make Of It

by TSK. Raman

An ode to my lovely son Abishek.

It's all about 18 odd years ago my little boy Abi began playing league cricket, and would go for matches every Sunday. I would drive him and spend my entire Sunday with him. Seeing all of them play, I would also always get tempted to play too because I played league matches regularly long ago for several years.

I resisted my temptation for a reasons 
- I didn't want grab a chance which could very well go to a kid, 
- I wasn't wanting to risk any injury should I play, because an injury would affect not only my home but 
   would also interfere with my professional life as injuries can always take a while to heal
- I wasn't going to last a whole day playing from morning to evening, week-after-week, as grabbing a day's 
  rest during a working week was most essential to recharge myself for the week ahead after the weekend. 

All this said, there was a match I wanted to play very badly for two reasons 
- It was going to be played in one of my most favorite grounds, a place in the Army Cantonment side. The ground nestled in a serene locale surrounded by trees all around, and a hill in the background making it a perfect setting of playing in the countryside. Another big reason the match was against a team which had players I had known in the past 

Finally the day which I was waiting for arrived. 

A few days before this match I indulged in a bit of jogging and did stretch exercises just enough to feel a little loose. It was just enough, but by no means anywhere close to what it ought to actually be. For this level and that too for just one day, it might have just served the purpose. 

We got up early and got dressed up and made a dash to the ground, which wasn't far away from where we stayed. I was dreaming that I would take to the field along with my son, and who knows, we might even bat together, so that I might guide him to make a substantial contribution. 

We reached the ground before the others and slowly one by one the others trickled in. The others arrived, and we greeted one another other. As soon as my friends saw me dressed, they knew I was serious about it. The so called selection committee (my old mates, guys who started playing cricket under me), went into a huddle and in a few minutes and delivered to me the news that I neither expected nor would have ever wanted to hear. They said, only one of us could play (my son or me), and the choice was on me. I looked into the distance, my son was practicing catches, after knocking a few balls. As told earlier, I wanted to play this match, very much because it also had some of my old friends in the opposite camp. I was furious as much as I felt sorry for my little son should I choose to play, because he will be disappointed. My heart was heavy, however, I gathered courage to share this thought with my son.

He looked at his mates, for he has been a part in a few matches earlier. His mother back home knew that he had his heart set on being in the play and she was worried about how he would react if he wasn’t chosen. This day was never like any before as I was feeling anxious about the outcome.

Abi's eyes were shining with pride and excitement.
He ran hugged me tight and said, "Guess what Dad I've chosen to clap and cheer for you today. You have the experience, and I know you will do well." 

The words of Abi ring in my ears even this day. My son had really shown what he would grow up to be. That day he was a teen ager, yet, the calmness, the maturity showed up as he disguised his emotions to perfection. He didn't betray his feeling ever. At the end of the day, thankfully, I lived up to his expectation. Furious and disappointed I was within, but all that I did was to let my bat do the talking. I played an unforgettable inning, dealing mostly in boundaries and sixes. I scored a quick fire 60 of just 20 balls but stood there to guide another young kid (my colleague's little son). Together we put up a partnership of 80 odd runs. My innings ended with me being caught on the boundary line aiming for my 50 with a six. It was a well taken catch, and I got out. As I was returning back to the dug-out I could see people clapping and cheering me all the way. I earned their respect as much as Abi's. I acknowledged their cheer, but I had still not reconciled to the deceit of my friends. I never met them after that. However, that day I realized that this young boy Abi was not one of ordinary stuff. He grew that way, and held to his core, which he does even to this day. He seems to be the one who can provide solace to everyone around him with his patience and composure. 

May his tribe increase.